Legions Of Pestilence – Snippet 06

The USE embassy in
Basel was, these days, far less embattled than it had been during the crisis
with Bavaria the previous summer. The uniformed guards at the entrances were,
if not a pure formality, at least more likely to be called upon to check
visitors for diplomatic credentials than for hidden weapons.

Inside, Diane
Jackson called once more upon her French, upon young Tony Adducci’s German and
Latin, and upon her last reserves of patience, which were running low. Very
low. She glared at Johann Rudolf Wettstein, representing the city and canton of
Basel. She glared at Colonel Raudegen, representing Burgundy.

For good measure,
although the man had done nothing but sit quietly, she glared at the delegate
representing Johann Heinrich von Osthein, the prince-bishop of Basel
(Catholic), which was a quite separate entity from the city and canton of Basel
(Protestant). The bishops of Basel had not resided in the city since 1528,
owing to a bit of difficulty they encountered with the Reformation.

Or, perchance, the
delegate–she couldn’t remember his name, he was such a meek presence–represented
the former prince-bishop of Basel, since most of the land over which
Osthein had previously been sovereign now found itself in the County of
Burgundy. Ostein lived at Porrentruy in Canton Jura. The war had not been good
to Porruntruy.

She took a
surreptious peek at the notes that Tony had provided for her, hoping to spot
the man’s name. No luck. But Tony wrote that Ostein’s family had connections in
Mainz–therefore connections with the archbishop of Mainz, who was currently
making nice to the USE. Perhaps that was why he had asked to send a delegate.
In any case, the bishop had asked to send a representative, no matter what the
reason might be, and here he was. Surely someone had introduced him.

Giving up her search
for the name of the episcopal delegate, she glared hardest at Margrave
Friedrich of Baden-Durlach. “You say that I should speak directly with
your father. I cannot speak directly with your father, My Lord, since your
father is in Augsburg, glaring across the Lech at the Bavarians in his capacity
as administrator for the emperor in this imaginary Province of Swabia they have
constructed. Offering imaginary Swabia’s imaginary forces for the protection of
the independent city-state.”

“Imaginary?”
One Georg Müller, a lawyer representing Axel Oxenstierna, drew himself as erect
as he could in the comfortable chair, profoundly offended. “Horn is
scarcely imaginary.”

“Yes. Swabia is
imaginary. Made up. Invented in their minds, by these ‘great diplomats’ who
attended the Congress of Copenhagen, just as a small child will make up an
imaginary friend and talk to him or her quite seriously, just as if the
invented friend were sitting in the same room, playing. Thus far, it does not
exist, this “Province of Swabia.’ It shows very little sign of ever
existing. Not now. Not someday soon.”

She turned back to the margrave. “Yes,
your father is in Augsburg, which is, at least, real. Ulm is garrisoned by the
Swedes, true–or, more precisely, by more of these Scots who fight for the
Swedes. They seem to be everywhere. But Ulm, also, is an independent city
state. Therefore, it will be up to the city council and the emperor whether
they have the emperor’s Scots or not, a year from now.”

Diane paused to
collect her train of thought.

“You, however,
are here. Therefore, you will do what is necessary and you will listen to this
man, although he has been sent by Bernhard.”

“As heir to the
margaviate of Baden-Durlach,” Friedrich started.

Tony Adducci
scribbled a note and started to doodle a Tom Swifty word game in the margin.
How did Margrave Friedrich speak? Persistently, pompously, pontifically
(scratch that out–too many Catholic connotations), portentously, priggishly…

“…until such
time as the status of Baden’s lands that the self-proclaimed Grand Duke of the
County of Burgundy has illegally occupied…”

“Plague,”
Diane screamed. “We are not playing games in this room. We are told that
there will be an epidemic of plague. This coming summer and next year. First we
have wars, now we have plagues. Plagues do not respect borders any more than
marauding armies do. They do not respect legal land titles any more than
plundering armies do. In this you will cooperate, My Lord. Yes, even with
Bernhard. Yes, even if he shows every sign of keeping the parts of Baden he has
already occupied. You will cooperate across the borders. As will your honored
father on behalf of the imaginary Province of Swabia. As will General Horn on
behalf of the king of Sweden, the emperor, you know who. Gustavus Adolphus.
Captain GARS. That guy. The politics? Bah. We can sort the politics out later.”

The men around the
table looked with awe as the tiny woman transformed into a dragon lady.

“Ummm, Diane…”
Tony said.

She glared at
Friedrich again. “There are things you need to learn. First, you will not
have an independent Baden any more. It may be in Burgundy, or it may be in the
USE’s Province of Swabia, but it will be in something, somewhere. Just because
your father administers that imaginary province now, there is no reason for you
to think that a margrave of Baden will always be its administrator. Gustavus
Adolphus appointed your father. He can appoint someone else. Hear the word of
God, which you should already know. ‘The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away.’
He gave me three sons and he took them away, left up-time. The same is true for
an emperor.”

Margrave Friedrich
nodded. “Do not put your trust in princes; they are mortal men who cannot
save.”

Diane barreled on. “Yes.
That is what I said. This world’s princes give and take away. There is no law
that Gustavus must appoint you or one of your brothers to succeed your father
in Swabia. If Mike Stearns has his way about constitutions, by the time your
father’s term expires, the make-believe province will elect its own
make-believe head of state.”

Friedrich opened his
mouth. Then he shut it again.

Tony doodled ‘prudently’
on the margin of his note pad.

“So. How do you
think that it is worse for you to have lands in Burgundy than in the USE? Why
is it so bad for you to have some of your lands in each country?”

Friedrich repeated
his fish-like mouth maneuver.

“How do you
think that moving them all into the USE Province of Swabia would improve
matters? Bernhard is one of your own. A down-time duke. He is actually likely
to leave your father and you more of your precious perks than Gustavus is. Not
that anyone asked me. You sit here arguing about such things while death and
disease are breaking out all over the place. Now. Are you all ready to listen
to Colonel Raudegen discuss plague?”

Each man at the
table averred that he was entirely prepared to enter into an orderly discussion
of plague.

Bolzen, Tyrol

“We are, of
course,” the regent of Tyrol said, “more grateful than ever that We
had the foresight to send the three Padua-trained plague doctors to Burgundy
last November. Since at that time We had not yet considered that there might be
a prospect of a marriage alliance in that direction… Perhaps it was the
working of divine providence. Burgundy will be far better prepared to deal with
the coming plague now than it would have been otherwise.”

Marcie Abruzzo, who
often suspected that she and her husband were mainly the regent’s “trophy
up-timers” even though they were assigned plenty of real work, whispered
to that same husband, Matt Trelli. “Cast your bread upon the waters and it
will come back sponge cake.”

It was a little
embarrassing when the chancellor, Dr. Bienner, caught the whisper and she was
forced to repeat the sentence aloud, translating it into three languages, and
explaining what sponge cake might be and how it resembled the type of sponge
used for washing one’s body with soap and water.

“An irreverent
play upon Ecclesiastes 11:1, I presume,” was Bienner’s deadpan comment.

It was considerably
more embarrassing when she was tasked by the regent with the duty of writing
her mother and requesting a sponge cake recipe. In Marcie’s view, one of the
great advantage of having attached themselves to a great household was that
even though she was now a married woman, somebody else did the cooking. Namely,
a cook. Or cooks. Kitchen staff. Somebody whose job it was to do the cooking.
Not her. Just like the cafeterias in high school and college and the cafeterias
at USE Steel. She didn’t have the vaguest idea how to bake a sponge cake, nor
did she want to learn.

But, ye gods, did
the down-timers know their Bibles backwards and forwards.

Lorraine

March 1635

The four regiments
of Irish dragoons under Butler, Devereux, Geraldin, and McDonnell, which had
been in the pay of the now-flat-broke Ferdinand of Bavaria, Archbishop of Cologne,
since the previous year, started out from Euskirchen, west of Bonn, in late
February and followed the Jakobswege south, moved into Lorraine at the
little Sarreguemines neck with the intent of crossing through the protrusion of
Bitche, making an eastward side raid to Merkwiller-Pechelbronn, crossing the
Rhine, making their way southeast across Swabia, and entering into the employ
of Ferdinand’s brother Duke Maximilian.

The French, busy
with their own concerns after the previous spring’s debacle, had only minimal
forces in Lorraine. They were minimal, at least, compared to what Richelieu had
sent in 1631 and 1632 when he drove the ducal family out. Lacking instructions,
the troops on the ground basically huddled in the garrisoned towns of the main
body of the duchy to the west and made no effort to impede the Irish colonels’
transit–neither of the dragoons themselves or of the large, unwieldy, baggage
train that followed them.

Nobody paid any
attention at all to a straggling group of peddlers, coming from the direction
of Forbach, who attached themselves to the camp followers shortly after the
entourage reached Sarreguemines, even though a couple of the peddlers were ill.
People got sick all the time. The arrival of illness and death in one’s midst
was simply a fact of life.

Comments

4 Responses to Legions Of Pestilence – Snippet 06

Re: Sponge Cake Where are you going to find potato starch in 163? I doubt that Marcie has ever separated out at least six eggs. And where do you find orange zest (ground orange peel). The above is poorly remembered preparation of Kosher L’Pesach Sponge Cake.